


An Angel and Four Demons Play Secret Hitler

by ceralynn



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 02:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21236477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceralynn/pseuds/ceralynn
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin, or, the Demonic Book Club from Kingdom of Hell gets a game night.





	An Angel and Four Demons Play Secret Hitler

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Power, the Status](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20038027) by [Shay_Moonsilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk). 

So, this entire fic makes more sense if you understand how to play the game [Secret Hitler](https://vimeo.com/179938217).

It also makes more sense if you’re familiar with the incredible series [Kingdom of Hell](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1446436) but if you’re not familiar with that, uh.. I dunno, man, just consider this an AU where Crowley and Aziraphale visit Hell and everyone’s really chill about it. (but do read Kingdom of Hell if you get the chance, I can’t recommend it enough)

That being said, uh. Enjoy it! 

\--

Over the course of human history, the question of what side deserves credit for what has been hotly contested for much of it. A game about Hitler has, naturally, seen its fair share of debate.

Hell could claim it outright, as anything involving the man who carried out the Holocaust should naturally radiate evil. Heaven's claim is more nuanced: it's a game that teaches humans about the evils that lead to the Second World War, and it is a fun game that has brought many people joy.

In truth, it was created by the board game publisher Goat, Wolf, and Cabbage, and no one involved in this story contests that fact.

Aziraphale is the one to suggest it; not Secret Hitler outright, but the concept of a game night. Not for any lack of love for the books he's been sharing. But it's been a while, and the novelty of things like dramatic irony, thematic progression, structural analysis—well, it's quite worn off, and Aziraphale is too good of a host not to notice.

"They're not gonna like it, Angel," Crowley responds, when his husband tells him of the idea in bed one evening. "I don't say that to wound you. It was a miracle even getting them to care about books. And as powerful as you are, I just don't think that lightning's gonna strike twice."

"Give me one night," the principality insists. "One game night, and if it fails spectacularly, there will never be a second."

Then he's batting his eyes just so and Crowley huffs in that way that means Aziraphale could have a thousand failed game nights if he really wanted them. 

Still, Crowley is firm in his trepidation, and stipulates that this first game night be an intimate affair, among trusted friends. People who can be trusted to keep quiet about the failure if it all goes south. Aziraphale is amenable to the idea, and when Ligur and Hastur hear the proposition, they're amenable to it as well. The next time the demonic couple are on the surface for business, they pop into one of the few remaining Barnes & Nobles and pick up what seems the most interesting.

Aziraphale, like any good angel, bristles at the notion of a game with Hitler in the title, but his fears are quickly put to bed. In fact, by the time Ligur explains the rules to him (he understands the mechanics far better than Hastur), he's almost delighted with the game, with the notion of ending up as Secret Hitler himself.

And once Crowley knows how his angel feels about it, he doesn't need convincing to join them.

But the game requires at least five players, and Hastur and Ligur agree, they want to do the first round among friends before opening it up to the book club at large. Beelzebub is natural choice for a fifth, even if they aren't sold on the idea that the game will be fun.

Once the dream team is assembled, they meet in the library of Aziraphale and Crowley's quarters, gathered around a circular table. Ligur explains the rules, to a few questions from Beelzebub and Hastur, but once everyone understands, the game begins proper. It's a rigorous process deciding who should go first (Aziraphale privately names a planet, allows the others to name other planets and deems a winner based on who's closest to the one he’s privately chosen) but once it's all worked out, Crowley is chosen as the first President.

"So the President is random at first," Aziraphale offers, trying to offer his own understanding where others may be lacking. "But it will travel clockwise throughout the game?"

"That's right," Ligur says. "But the Chancellor must be voted on."

"Before we start," Bee shifts in their chair. "I'd like to ask; can everyone just say, 'I hate fascism' for me?"

Hastur levels them with a smile. "I hate fascism for me."

Aziraphale can't help but laugh, the laugh can't help but send a ripple through the group.

Crowley taps the Chancellor plaque before him. "Well, Angel," he muses. "Who could I trust here but you?"

"Oh, Crowley." The angel turns away, cheeks burning. "The responsibility? I couldn't take it. Please, darling."

"Alright." And Crowley doesn't hesitate slapping the plaque down before Beelzebub 

Bee bristles, but doesn't refuse. And when the vote reads unanimous (save for their own card drop) they're a trifle relieved. Aziraphale giggles beside them.

"So, Bee's Hitler, then!"

A chorus of laughs follows, and the angel wiggles in approval.

It's advantageous to know what's going on here.

Crowley has been randomly decided as President. He has chosen Beelzebub as his Chancellor. This means that Crowley, in this round, has the benefit of seeing three of the cards in the policy deck. He gets to, of his own accord, choose one policy to abandon to the Discard pile, and two policies to hand over to Beelzebub. Beelzebub then gets to choose between those two policies, which to pass to become law, and which to discard. 

This happens for every President and Chancellor who get elected. This also happens in silence.

The other players watch this happen. They watch Crowley carefully study his three, and Bee carefully study their two, then watch Bee lay a law of blue text onto the Liberal board. A gentle sigh of relief sweeps the players, and Ligur speaks.

"Would the members of government like to say what they saw?" 

"Sure," Crowley says. "Two fascist laws, one liberal. Discarded a fascist one, of course."

"And I got one of each, passed the liberal one."

The group nods.

"That's a good thing, then," Aziraphale offers. "Means we aren't burning through liberal laws, for one thing."

"If they're telling the truth." Hastur shoots his husband a gaze and Ligur returns it with a smile.

"Very true."

Crowley shrugs, accepting. Bee shifts in their chair.

"By nature of the game, you're constantly working with imperfect information," he continues. "Refreshing, a lack of trust between demons."

The rest of the table nods, though Aziraphale does so hesitantly.

"Given, then, that we’re just acquiring information," Ligur goes on, taking the Chancellor plaque in hand. "I think it'd be best to give this to someone who wasn't in the latest government. And seeing as the angel will get to be President next anyway—" Aziraphale, beside him, nods. "—I believe, Hastur, that you're my best choice."

Hastur nods as the plaque is set in front of him, the rest of the table giving murmurs of approval. Which instantly makes them all nervous; it's probably not a great sign, in game terms, for everyone to agree so quickly.

Hastur muses over the plaque in front of him, and Ligur can see the thought in his gooey eyes.

"I'd prefer this in the hands of a fascist."

A beat passes before Beelzebub speaks. 

"What?"

"To get information," he clarifies. "To test them."

"You.." Ligur's eyes narrow. "Do you want a fascist passing laws?"

"No, I don't want a fascist in power," he says. "As a liberal, though, I don't— It's about getting information. I don't gain anything from this. I know I'm a liberal."

"A liberal who wants their Chancellor to be a fascist."

"Okay, okay, forget I said anything." Hastur moves for his ballot cards. "Forget it, shall we vote?"

The rest of the group exchange looks, reach for their own ballot cards, and Hastur actually lets out a sigh of offense when there are 'nein's in the vote.

"Well we all felt good about it until you opened your damn mouth," his husband says, and anyway, Hastur can't be too upset, because at least he still won the election. This legislative session happens with just as little fanfare as the first. Ligur picks up three policy cards, discards one, hands two to Hastur. Hastur studies them, and to everyone's relief, a second liberal law gets passed.

Bee's the first to speak, looking at Ligur, "So what did you both have?"

"I handed him a liberal law and a fascist law."

"And that's what I got," Hastur confirms.

"But I tested him at the expense of discarding a liberal law." He touches the liberal board. "And the reality is, there are only six liberal laws in the deck. So our margin of error, until we reshuffle, is one."

"That isn't ideal," Aziraphale starts. "But we did test Hastur, and he passed, which is a good thing. Good information for us to know."

"Well it is and it isn't." Ligur straightens. "Should we end up passing any fascist laws, and now there's a real possibility we might, Hitler's going to want to act very liberally, want to encourage people to vote for him later. We've learned that Hastur's either a liberal, or he's Hitler."

The group exchanges glances, mostly with Hastur, who laughs.

"You're right," he says. "It is refreshing, distrust among demons."

Once again, Aziraphale can't relate, but he keeps this to himself. He's much more concerned with getting the title of President, placing four well manicured fingers on top of the plaque as Ligur sets it in front of him.

"So we've tested everyone at this point," he begins. "Except me. Which is hardly ideal, considering the deck composition."

"Assuming everyone's been telling the truth," Crowley breaks his own long silence. "We're trusting each other's word at this point. Could be more liberal laws in the deck than we know."

"Fascists lying about the amount of liberal laws getting discarded?" Bee shifts. "Is that what you're suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting we're working with imperfect information," he says. "In fact, I'm not suggesting it, that's just the fact of the matter. We're trusting a lot of Presidents to tell the truth of what they've discarded."

Aziraphale eyes his own husband, fingers drumming on the plaque.

"Crowley, dear, you haven't been elected in yet," he says. "But.. well, you have been awfully quiet."

"Oh, I'm always quiet, Angel." 

"This is true." The drumming stops, Aziraphale casting sidelong glances at his guests. "But if I'm to trust anyone at this table, it ought to be... Well, what am I saying? I shouldn't trust any of you—" He plucks the Chancellor plaque up, sets it by Crowley. "—but it's got to be someone."

"And I graciously accept the nomination, Angel."

"Shall we vote then?"

They do, and the vote passes, with a single 'nien' from Ligur, which Crowley understandably understands. Another legislative session occurs, and neither government member looks happy about it, a sentiment which spreads when Crowley sets down their very first fascist law. Disapproving noises follow, Aziraphale's voice rising from them.

"I'm so terribly sorry, Crowley, dear," he says, shaking his head. "But I drew three fascist laws."

"Bullshit," Bee calls.

"Well, to be fair," Hastur counters. "We talked about this. If everyone's been honest, this was a very probable outcome—"

Bee cuts him off with some noises that let him know they get the point.

"Well," they buzz. "At least we know something."

"That Crowley's Hitler?"

"That we have a team that's failed," they say. "We know now of our first team to fail to pass a liberal law. Though whether they're fascists or beholden to the whims of fate, we can't yet say."

They snatch the plaque up from in front of the angel, set it in front of themselves.

"So, who do you all think I should choose as my Chancellor? Call it unconventional, but I'd love feedback."

"Well, as a liberal," Hastur leans in, and Bee puts a hand up.

"Save it."

"Couldn't be the worst thing to give Hastur a turn," Azirphale offers. "Or Ligur. Honestly, at this point, I just want some breathing room between me and the failure my team just endured."

"Is that what you'd like?" Bee smirks. "A chance to get the taint of fascism off you?"

"Please."

"Very well." They plop the Chancellor title down in front of Ligur. "Hastur'll get a chance to form his own government next turn anyway. We all on board with this?"

"Only one way to find out," the angel offers, and everyone readies ballots.

The vote is unanimous, and every being at the table can feel Bee radiating dread just based on that. They pick up three cards from the policy deck, mouth 'fuck' before sending them Ligur's way. Ligur takes the cards, discards one, and sets a liberal policy down on the liberal deck. Bee moves to explain themselves.

"I picked up two liberal laws," they offer, and the angel makes a face not unlike the one he wore finding out the Nazis were two-timing him (the Real Nazis, that is).

"No!"

"So this means," they buzz. "There isn't a single liberal law left in that deck."

A beat follows before Aziraphale response. 

"Well Ligur's proven himself, at the very least." 

"This is true," Beelzebub says. "And our failing team?"

"Us," Crowley and Aziraphale announce in disappointed unison.

"That isn't so bad though," Bee says. "Look, the odds weren't in anyone's favour, and we've got great momentum. We've gotten quite lucky so far, all things considered." 

They garner a few nods.

"The reality is though," they continue. "We're going to end up passing another fascist law. At least." 

"Well, that is what we feared for this round," Aziraphale offered. "Who knows? Maybe.. we could get lucky again."

"We got too lucky," they snap. "We've trashed a liberal law."

"Well alright," Hastur says, the next President who takes his plaque, sets it in front of himself and places the Chancellor plaque before Beelzebub. "Let's go ahead. Let's see what's in there."

His husband's eyes narrow. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm gonna know what I pass them," he explains. "I'll know if they're telling the truth about what they say they got."

"But we're to trust you," Aziraphale says, eyes narrowing as well. "To be honest about what you pull? If your stories are contradictory, you're the one we're meant to trust?"

"Of course. I'm a liberal." He gestures to Bee. "If there's a liberal law in here, I'll be forcing them to pass it."

"You're still asking us to trust you. Which, not that I mean it personally, is a stretch right now."

"Is it?" Crowley pipes up. "LIsten, we've got one fascist law on the board, we're not in any kind of danger zone yet. And anyway, I'm not convinced this whole argument isn't an act to convince the rest of us that you three are in cahoots."

"What part of this convinces you we're in cahoots?" Bee shifts. "He's setting me up to fail."

"If you're not fascist," Hastur smiles. "Then just be honest with what I pass you."

"How am I supposed to trust that you'll be honest about—"

"Well that settles it for me, you're in cahoots." Crowley readies his ballot. "And you're both wasting precious legislative time, so let's vote. Yes? Let's vote."

The vote is near-unanimous save for Bee's objection, something the rest of the group can't help but laugh at. Hastur's eyes glisten as he looks over the three policies, as Bee glares daggers with their own, giving a rough exhale when they look over the two they were handed. Without ceremony, they discard one law, and set the other in its place on the fascist board.

"Well there we have it," Crowley says. "We know who our fascists are."

Hastur opens his mouth to protest, to explain himself, but he's shut up by the rest of the group. And it's important to know why they're so nervous now, why they're not going to believe a word out of Hastur or Bee's mouth.

The two boards, fascist and liberal respectively, are set up very differently. For the liberal team to win by virtue of policy decisions, they simply must pass five liberal policies. The fascists, by contrast, gain power as more fascist policies are voted into law. Once three fascist laws are passed, win conditions tilt decidedly in the fascists' favour. Once three fascist laws are on the board, the fascists can win simply by electing Hitler as Chancellor. 

In addition, the President who presides over that session—the session putting a third fascist law on the board—will gain a special power: they'll get to see, just once, the next three policies that will enter into legislative session. This is valuable information in and of itself, but it also means that however the next legislative session behaves, whatever the members of government say about it, the player who gained this power will know whether or not those members are being truthful.

This isn't the only power gained with the passage of fascist laws. If a fourth fascist law gets passed, the President of that legislative session has the power and obligation to kill one player—though, of course, only in-game. This is true also of the fifth fascist law passed, and if a sixth fascist law gets passed, the fascists win based on legislative victory. But one need not be a fascist to benefit from the power fascists gain; if a liberal happens to be President during either the fourth or fifth passages of fascist laws, they'd do well to kill whomever they believe to be Hitler, and fast. Should their aim be true, the player would immediately reveal their character card, outing themselves as Hitler, signalling victory for the liberals. 

One other change in the gameplay occurs, this one due to necessity: there are no longer enough policies in the policy deck to hold a proper, three-card legislative session. The discarded laws will be shuffled back in to create a new policy deck.

Our players won't know what laws didn't enter circulation. And they're not very inclined to trust the members of the latest government, based on the law they've just passed.

"Well, what we do know," Ligur says, shuffling the new policy deck. "Is how many liberal laws are in the deck. And that's three."

Many members of the group make as many noises, almost all of which are of concern.

"It should be a best case scenario for the liberals," Hastur says. "Right?"

"It would be," Bee buzzes. "But all the fascist laws have been shuffled back in. That's three liberal laws against every fascist law we've rejected."

"Oh." With this knowledge, it's kind of a relief to slide the President plaque in Crowley's direction. 

"Chances are, it'll only get worse. Especially if we've got fascist Presidents secretly discarding liberal laws."

Crowley interjects, setting the corresponding plaque before his nominee. "Then I'll nominate Aziraphale."

Said nominee looks the plaque over, gaze moving from it to Crowley and back again.

"Well, if this is the best chance of securing a liberal law, then.. I will take that nomination."

"And if you two fail again," Ligur says. "We write you off as fascists."

Hastur and Bee nod amongst themselves, and really, neither member of government is a position to argue with that. The vote passes, but just barely, with Hastur the only non-member of government voting 'jai'. Crowley selects his policy to discard and Aziraphale receives the two remaining, both of them stone-faced until Aziraphale reveals and places the latest and third fascist law.

"I really am sorry, Angel, I just drew three fascist laws."

"Sorry?" Aziraphale all but spits. "Really?! I'm to believe you're sorry?"

"I thought this'd give you a chance to redeem yourself."

"Giving me two fascist laws is a chance to redeem myself?!"

"You said it yourself, this was supposed to be the best chance for the liberal laws!"

Aziraphale only sighs, more self-pity than anger. He can never stay mad at Crowley long, and anyway, there are in-game consequences to deal with, namely what his husband will be getting out of this legislative session.

"Well, go on then, President Crowley," Ligur says, nodding toward the policy deck. "Next three policies, you get to know them. We get to trust you."

"It really was just a bad draw," he mumbles as he picks up the cards, more to himself than anything else. "You think I'd knowingly set up Aziraphale to fail? And how many liberal decisions have I been involved in?"

"Just tell us what you see."

Crowley huffs and fans the cards out in front of him, taking in each one before stacking them back on the policy deck.

"Well it's not good," he starts. "I mean, it is good, in a way, but it's too good."

"Too good?"

"_Two _ good. Two liberals laws and a fascist law. Which means—"

"We're bound to burn through one," Ligur finishes. "Should you be telling the truth."

"Well it'd be an odd lie to tell," Crowley counters, shoving the Presidential plaque away. "Especially to you, the person who's gonna know immediately that I've lied, if that was the case."

Ligur concedes silently that he has a point.

"Anyway, even if you or whoever you choose as Chancellor are fascists, you're forced to pass a liberal law. You'll be passing one at the expense of trashing one, but still. Win for the liberals."

Ligur stays silent, fingers drumming on top of the Chancellor plaque, and it's his husband who breaks the silence.

"So we are going to pass a liberal law," he says, tone almost one of consolation. "That's not a problem. I'm a liberal, let me pass it."

"Well it's not that simple, dear," Ligur holds up the plaque he's been drumming on. "I also have to narrowly avoid electing Hitler."

"Oh, shit," Crowley snaps, and even Ligur has to admit, it's convincing.

"Yeah," Ligur says. "So forgive me if I'm second-guessing everyone's liberal track records."

"Well you can trust me," Crowley says, doesn't balk when the whole party looks at him with surprise, doesn't stop addressing only Ligur. "Look, I've told you what's in that policy deck. You're gonna know the second you pick them up whether I've lied to you or not. I'm telling you, liberal or fascist, I'm not gonna tell a bald-faced lie like that. I'm telling you, you can trust me." 

Hastur snaps, "You're telling him that 'cause you're Hitler and you want to win!" But Ligur stays silent, considering it, considering it, before carefully setting the Chancellor plaque down in front of Crowley.

"I'm going to vote no!"

"Then vote no," Ligur says. "I'm curious to see the vote on this one."

"You're curious?" Hastur says it like a warning but his husband isn't deterred. The players vote, and this time the only affirmative votes are from the prospective members of government.

"So," Ligur says. "Our first failed vote."

The others nod, with Aziraphale asking, "What does a failed vote mean?"

It's a fair question, with a fair answer, that Ligur delivers. The consequences of a failed vote are tied, like many game mechanics, into the differences between the liberal and the fascist boards. Namely, the liberal board has a tracking section for failed votes, the tracking of which is marked by a blue circular tile. It starts at Placement One, and travels down the four placements of the tracking section, once for a failed vote, and then again for each consecutive following failure. After three failed votes, the government, having failed to form, must pass whatever policy card is on the top of the deck, regardless of it being liberal or fascist.

It's at this last part that Aziraphale perks up. 

"Crowley, you saw the deck. Which policy was on top?"

Crowley's quiet for a moment, then another.

"Liberal."

"Then we should keep failing votes," he goes on. "We fail two more votes in a row, we pass the liberal law on top. We pass a liberal law while not burning through the one underneath it."

It's sound logic, which puts everyone at ease, but it's liberal logic which any Hitler worth his salt would be keen to employ, and the liberals of the group can't help but bristle at that.

Then again, after Ligur's failure, Aziraphale is the current president, and if he's a fascist, it's hardly in his best interest to talk his way out of nominating Hitler. 

He takes the plaque and sets it in front of Hastur, who looks rightfully offended. 

"It's nothing personal," he explains as he readies his ballot, speaking both as a player and as Hastur's friend. "This is purely to fail a vote. Nothing to do with you as a player at all."

The group votes 'nein' unanimously. Ligur moves the liberal board's tracker to reflect this, and the President plaque shifts to Beelzebub. Bee sets Chancellor haphazardly in front of Aziraphale, and another failed vote ensues.

"So, for a third time," Ligur intones. "We've failed to form a government."

"And that's a good thing," Aziraphale clarifies.

"And now," Ligur goes on, plucks the top card off the policy deck. "We're going to pass the next law, off the top, automatically."

He flips the card, setting it down in its place. On the fascist deck.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Crowley pounds the table with each word. "Shit, fuck, it was the other way!"

No one looks convinced. 

"I mean it! I made a mistake! You all saw, I was barely concerned with the order. I had them fanned out in front of me like fuckin' poker cards!"

"It was a trick," Hastur thinks out loud, and as a player, he should be outraged, but as Aziraphale's friend, he's impressed. "And a nasty one. The two of you are fascists."

"Well, Beelzebub," Ligur says. "President of a government who failed to govern, you have been given the power to kill another player."

"I feel sick," they offer, though no one call tell if they mean it.

Ligur nods. "Go ahead then. Who should die?"

"Well either Crowley or Aziraphale, right?" Hastur says. "Since this trick of theirs worked."

"Can we be sure it's trick?" they buzz, and put a hand up before Hastur can start sputtering. 

"Listen, I'm suspicious, too. We all are, rightfully so. But can we prove collaboration?" 

They wait, genuinely seeking feedback. They receive only silence. 

"How could Aziraphale have known the top card would be a fascist law?" they go on. "How would Crowley have gone about communicating that?"

"We can't prove collaboration," Ligur says. "But can we prove it's a mistake?"

"Well, sure we can," Crowley says, and, met with incredulity, places a finger on the policy deck.

"We established I'm not lying about what I saw here, yeah?" Everyone nods, more or less. "Right, it'd be a stupid lie to tell. A lie you'd find out immediately. I'm not lying about that. If I hadn't gone and fucked up, there'd be one more liberal law on that board. We'd go through another legislative session, get the last liberal law on the board, have a legislative victory. 

"There's no room for error."

There's another beat of silence, Ligur breaking it this time.

"You really weren't collaborating."

"Not to mention, even if we were," Aziraphale says. "History suggests we lack the competence to pull something like that off." 

Crowley makes an offended sound and Aziraphale turns to him. 

"Darling, our grand scheme for averting Armageddon was seven years of playing dress up. We failed upwards, yes, but we did still fail."

Crowley puts the noise away. There are no noises for several seconds, just the silence that follows a discussion that has reached its natural conclusion.

"Well," Ligur says. "The magic words are, 'I nominate insert-name-here to die. Are you ready to say the magic word?"

They are, until Aziraphale finally speaks up in his own defense.

"Hastur, you've been awfully quiet in all this."

"I don't want to sound suspicious," he says, almost laughs. "Honestly, as the next President, I thought I'd be the one sentencing someone to die. I gave most of my thought to that before I realised my mistake."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Bee grumbles. "Hastur's Hitler."

"I'm not! I've been keeping my mouth shut precisely so you wouldn't think that!"

"That sounds even worse! Do you even hear yourself?"

"What if you're Hitler?" he says, almost childishly. "Killing me so you can keep alive fascists to elect you. What if you're a fascist, killing me so you don't end up killing Hitler?"

"I've heard enough," Bee says, their next words delivered with all the authority of a prince. "I nominate Hastur to die."

Hastur sighs, but that's all that he does. 

"Well," Ligur says. "He's not Hitler, we can say that much."

"Should Hastur leave the table?" Crowley asks, and everyone, except Hastur, seriously considers. "He can't talk now, right? He can't contribute to anymore discussions now that he's dead. Wouldn't be fair, really."

"Where am I going to go?"

"Breakfast nook, living room. It's a prince's quarters, we've got space, for Heaven's sake."

"We should vote on it," Bee says, already reading their ballot. The others follow suit.

"Are you serious?"

But seconds after the question leaves him the players are flipping their ballot cards. A unanimous 'jai' and Hastur is banished, making fussy noises as he moves to the breakfast nook.

"Probably the richest part of all this," Ligur says once his husband has made his exit. "Is that the President title loops right back to Crowley, who saw the top three policy cards to begin with. So much for us being able to call you lying."

"You really think," Crowley starts. "That I orchestrated the last ten minutes of gameplay with the express purpose of passing a fascist law, then getting Hastur killed, all so I could keep it to myself what the next few policy cards are gonna be?"

"No," Ligur smiles. "But dear Satan, it feels great not to trust you all."

All of them laugh and wiggle, though the angel a tad more gently.

"Though, speaking honestly," he goes on. "Based on everyone's reaction, I think we're safe in assuming Aziraphale to be Hitler."

"Are we?" 

Ligur opens his mouth to interrupt but Crowley goes on before he can be accused of simply sticking up for his husband.

"If that little trick had worked," he says, pointing to the liberal board. "If I hadn't fucked it up and actually left the liberal card on top like I thought I did, we'd be one card away from legislative victory. Hitler wants to act liberal, sure, but Hitler isn't about to start ensuring a liberal victory."

He watches the gears turning in Ligur's mind, feels gears turning in his own.

"Bee, you haven't been involved in a single fascist law-passing."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Hitler will want to act liberal."

"We all want to act liberal," they say. "But if you're really so suspicious, give me the chance to prove myself. Give me a liberal law, I'll pass it."

"Oh, you are out of the running, _ your highness _," Crowley laughs. "In fact, I think both of you have to be."

He sets the Chancellor plaque down in front of Ligur, but neither Bee nor Aziraphale argue with this decision. They merely ready their ballots, along with everyone else, and seconds later, a unanimous vote elects Ligur Chancellor. A tense moment of nothingness passes wherein Ligur doesn't reveal his player card, and Crowley selects three cards off the policy deck.

"Shit, shit, _ shit _," comes out through gritted teeth, and the players straighten up in reaction. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Aziraphale gets out the start of 'what' before Ligur puts a hand up, a silent reminder that the votes pass in silence. It's a reminder to Crowley, too, though the best effort he can make is to keep his exasperated sigh quiet. He hands discards one policy, hands the remaining two to Ligur, who, upon receiving them, understands the reaction completely. His discards one law, sets the remaining one down on the liberal deck. 

"Oh, good lord, Crowley," the angel scolds. "You got us all worked up over a liberal law?"

"Two liberal laws," he responds, teeth still gritted, and Ligur confirms.

"That's what he handed me. We've burned through every liberal law this round."

Aziraphale regards them both with abject shock, and even Bee's eyes widen.

"Well this is fantastic news for the fascists," Ligur goes on, moving the President plaque to its new rightful place in front of him. "Because we can't risk failing votes now."

"We can fail votes a little," Beelzebub says, pointing to the tracker on the liberal board, how far away they are from three failed votes in a row. "We can fail if we think we might be electing Hitler."

"And that's got to be one of you," Crowley says, looking between his sibling and his husband. "We elected Ligur Chancellor and nothing happened. And I know I'm not Hitler."

"You _ say _ you're not Hitler. We don't know a damn thing."

"Yes, Crowley," his husband joins in. "And when were you last elected Chancellor anyway?"

"Oh for fuck's sake." Crowley slumps back in his chair. "You're collaborating. Do you see this shit?"

Ligur does, in fact, see this shit. And upon seeing this shit and knowing what it means, he sets the Chancellor plaque down in front of Crowley.

"Well what the fuck was that for?" he asks, like Ligur's decked him or thrown a drink in his face. "Setting me up to fail, are you?"

"I don't want to elect Hitler," Ligur explains. "I am setting you up to.. what was that phrase you used, Angel? Fail upwards?"

Aziraphale nods.

"We'll pass a fascist law," he goes on. "That's fine. That isn't your fault. Then we'll have the power to kill. We kill Hitler, game's over. Sound like a plan?"

"Well that's fascist talk if I've ever heard it," Aziraphale says, and to his credit, he's heard his fair share of fascist talk. "How can we be sure you two aren't collaborating? Creating this great ruse that you're two liberals tempted to use the powers of fascism for good, using it as justification to get Hitler here elected?"

"You don't have to like it," Ligur says, already readying his ballot. "But I'm not changing the nomination. Vote 'nein' if you're so opposed."

That's precisely what the angel does, but he's out numbered and Crowley's election passes. Ligur draws three policy cards, discards one, hands the rest to the elected Chancellor, who once again interrupts what should be a silent legislative session with a long-suffering sigh. He discards one law, and, as predicted, sets the chosen law down on the fascist board.

"Well, go on then, President. Fail us upwards."

"I nominate Beelzebub to die."

Bee leans back in their chair, folds their arms. It's a very exaggerated way of emphasizing the lack of what he wanted to happen, happening.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Ligur turns to the angel, who is looking to the board with distress. "You're Hitler."

Aziraphale looks up, frowns. "That's not very sporting." 

"You're fucking Hitler," he repeats. "I can't believe I fucked this up. How in the Heaven do we come back from this?"

"You don't," Aziraphale states, rather pointedly. "Maybe I'm Hitler, maybe I'm not, but the fascists have already won."

He takes the President title from its place in front of Ligur, places it in front of himself instead.

"You distrust me," he goes on. "Whoever I choose as Chancellor, if you and Crowley are indeed Liberals, you aren't going to approve. You can fail my government, if you want. Then it's up to Crowley to create a government more to your liking.

"But, if everyone has been telling the truth—and I'm inclined to believe they have—then it hardly matters who elects what, or how we all vote on it. You can fail votes until it's flipped automatically or you can form a government to get it passed. There's nothing left in that stack but fascist laws."

"If we're all being honest." Crowley lowers his glasses just enough to see over. "If Bee wasn't lying about three liberal laws."

"And to what end?" they snap. "What am I gaining, discarding a fascist law, if I'm the fascist you say I am?"

Hastur yells something from the breakfast nook about the unfairness of Bee speaking after death, despite his own ousting.

"You needn't defend yourself," Aziraphale says primly. "In fact—" He gingerly takes the President plaque, moves it to sit squarely in front of his husband. "I'll cede my right to the presidency. Let you go ahead and form a government you can agree on. Would a true fascist do that?"

Crowley's eyes move between the plaque, his husband, his guests, but if Aziraphale's very clever assessment is correct, there's no use putting things off. He reaches out to the Chancellor title, sets it in front of Ligur, and the vote is unanimously positive. Crowley takes three laws off the top of the deck, passes two of them stone-faced to Ligur, who only shuts his eyes in response. 

"You absolute bastard."

Aziraphale's expression is an absolute antithesis and he worries he might vibrate out of his corporation entirely. When Ligur finally looks to him, he holds, between two manicured fingers, his unveiled player card: Hitler.

"You complete fucking bastard." He can't tell if Ligur is pissed or pleased.

Hastur shouts something about wanting to be allowed back and when they agree, he saunters over.

"You got lucky," Crowley growls, a smile on his lips.

"Oh, undoubtedly. But luck can only reward those who have put in hard work already."

"You got lucky! Lucky Ligur killed the wrong fascist. You are a fascist, aren't you?"

"Proud member of the winning team," Bee answers, smiles to Aziraphale. "And happy to have died in battle if it meant winning the war."

Aziraphale giggles. He feels rather like a giddy new boyfriend winning over in-laws.

With that, Beelzebub stands from the table, uncovering their own player card only to return it uneventfully to its rightful deck. They start the boring task of gathering up the policy cards, and everyone else gets the hint to help pack up as well.

"Not a bad game night, Angel," Bee says. "And not just because we played these fools under the table. You find another game worth playing, I wouldn't loathe the idea of doing this again."

Hastur and Ligur murmur their assent, and Aziraphale finds Crowley's eyes across the table, still peering at him just over dark glasses. He grins.

Luck or not, they can both agree the win is well-earned, and Aziraphale can’t help but start planning the next game night in his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all.


End file.
